


There and Back Again

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bilbo and Thorin aren't actually together anymore, Bilbo is Frodo, Explicit Language, M/M, No one except Bilbo dies AU, Reincarnation, Thorin is still Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By some trick of fate, Bilbo is reborn. He has a new life, a lie. He pretends to be Frodo Baggins, but he only keeps up the charade until he can see Thorin Oakenshield again, to confront him.</p><p>When this, inevitable, confrontation comes, Thorin doesn't know what to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeing Thorin Again

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little idea that had been in my head for a while that I finally bothered to write.

Thorin didn’t know what to think when he was told that a hobbit wanted to see him. Perhaps they’d finally, after ten long years (a whole decade!), they knew of Bilbo’s demise. What was he supposed to tell them? “Oh hey, I know I killed one of your people over a stone but I’m sorry about that, so will you please forgive me?”

The gold no longer mattered to him. He wished only to keep his people alive and well, which they were. The rebuilding had gone far better than expected. Erebor was already at the prime of its existence, and it was even wealthier than it was when Thror had been king. His ancestors must have been cheering for him in the holy land of Mahal.

He should’ve been happy, but he didn’t believe he’d ever be happy again. Not when the person, the hobbit, who had saved him multiple times from death was dead, sitting alone in a cold tomb in Erebor. He was in a royal grave, but he would never really belong there, but Thorin wasn’t sure he’d belong in a grave in the Shire either. He’d changed the moment he’d stepped out of his door, adventure in his thoughts and the gleam of it in his eyes.

The hobbit came in with two guards surrounding them, and this hobbit was quite small, almost impossible to see. He walked away from the guards and up to Thorin. Thorin turned his eyes to Balin, but for the first time in his career as his royal advisor he didn’t comfort him. Something in his eyes said “You have to face him yourself.”

The memory came back to him, the discovery of Bilbo’s body, burying him and taking whatever was left of his to his royal chambers, placing them in his dust covered drawers, where to that day they still sat. He opened it sometimes and looked inside, touching the spare clothes Bilbo owned, the few books he brought on his journey, a small golden ring that Thorin realized Bilbo had wanted to give him. He’d never had the heart to actually put it on, to see it on his finger and be the only reminder that he’d once been happy.

His body had been placed in the ground, his arms folded over his chest. He’d looked to be asleep, but he had no pulse, and there was a large bruise on his front. Thorin had made sure it was carefully covered, so that if anyone were to look at him they’d think he hadn’t died as painful of a death. He hadn’t deserved to die that day, to have his life cut short, and his death having been caused by the person, the dwarf, he’d cared for most.

The hobbit walked up to him, and finally Thorin could get a good look at the hobbit. He was small, only a child, looking to be less than forty.

No, Thorin thought, of course he’d look under thirty; hobbits don’t age like dwarves.

He looked younger than eleven. His eyes were a deep blue color, his head and feet filled with dark chocolate colored hair. Despite his youth, there was something very deep in his eyes.

“What would you like?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. The sight of another Halfling nearly brought him to tears.

“You’re still terrible at introductions,” the Halfling replied, then chuckled. “But what should I have expected?” He leaned one of his legs against the edge of Thorin’s throne, which was one of the rudest gestures that could be done to the king.

“I don’t remember ever meeting you, child,” he said. “Now please step back.”

The hobbit laughed, but stepped back anyway. “We’ve known each other in some ways that would be rude to mention out loud.”

Thorin was appalled. “Get out before I order my guards tear you out of here, Halfling.”

“You’re still calling me that?” He tapped his hairy foot on the ground, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought that atrocious nickname would have died along with me.”

“Wh-what?”

The hobbit laughed, then reached out his hand. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” He gave a toothy grin. “Or should I call myself Frodo Baggins? That is what my new parents had named me!”

Thorin scowled. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke you’re playing, but get out of my kingdom this instant or I will have you hanged!”

The hobbit cringed, but quickly recovered. “No,” he said, his eyes filled with determination. He clenched his small fists tightly. “No, I waited ten years to see you again! I went through a whole new life unable to live it because I couldn’t forget about my last one!”

Thorin gestured for his guards not to move. He eyed Balin, but he seemed just as shocked as him. He tried to process what he’d just been told, but the words all broke apart and swam in his mind.

“I faked my way through life,” he said. “My parents were excited when my first word was ‘Thorin’, but they thought it was ‘thorn’. You always had been a thorn on my side.” He was making a joke, but no one, not even him, dared to laugh. His eyes raged. “I was the only child they ever got and I didn’t even want to stick around to keep them happy. Hobbits can have over ten children but they were stuck with me, and I was too concerned about what happened years before then being their child. I couldn’t focus on children’s things because I was too busy teaching myself how to hold a sword again, to survive in the wilderness.” Tears pricked at his eyes. “I couldn’t make them happy, but at least they don’t have to deal with me any longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re dead. When I learned the news I was both heartbroken and relieved. I’d planned on running away to Erebor once I reached my ninth birthday, but I didn’t have to worry then. They didn’t deserve to die, but they didn’t deserve to live with their fake idea of a family. I’d been living my whole life, since birth, worrying about how I’d get back here. Some family members were going to keep me, raise me, but I couldn’t stay any longer.” The tears freely ran down his face. “Did you know that I was born again on the same day that I died? To think my death would give a whole new, and quite terrible, life. I never asked to be reborn, to live a sham of a life.” He looked at Thorin dead in the eyes. “My entire existence has lead up to this day, to this confrontation. I have spent too many damn years letting people call me Frodo, pretending that I am nothing more than an idiotic child to deal with your shit, Thorin Oakenshield. I robbed two of the nicest hobbits in the world of their dreams of having a child, a real family.” And then he cried, he really cried. The tears fell down his face, getting faster and faster, bigger and bigger.

“I told myself that this moment would be worth it. I believed myself.” He turned away from him. “Now excuse me, but I have other issues to deal with. Since you’re out of the way maybe I can discuss with more sensible people, ones who will listen.” He stared down at his hands, then grabbed a lock of his dark curly hair. “I look nothing like I did before, and that only makes people believe that I’m Frodo even more. But I’m not Frodo, I’m Bilbo. . . I’m Bilbo! I’m Bilbo! I’m Bilbo!” He ran away, but tripped, falling on the ground. He was bawling, the tears falling down his face like a waterfall. All the while, he screamed that he wasn’t Frodo, he was Bilbo.

“I’m Bilbo! I’m Bilbo! I’m Bilbo! Eru Iluvatar, I am Bilbo! Frodo doesn’t exist; Frodo doesn’t exist!”


	2. Meeting Fili and Kili (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili being Fili and Kili.
> 
> I literally don't know how else to describe it.
> 
> (This is also an AU where no one else knows about the ring's power except Bilbo.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because everyone wanted more.

Thorin had handed Bilbo his spare clothes without comment, then watched the hobbit walk away. He refused to even turn back his head to look at him. He'd taken the ring and clutched it in his palm, and Thorin imagined it leaving an imprint on the hobbit's pale skin. Tears slipped down his cheek, but he barely noticed them.

 

~

 

Bilbo walked through the halls of Erebor, completely invisible to everyone. He was glad to be alone-not in the sense that he was alone alone, as dwarves surrounded him, but he was alone in the sense that he existed in a colorless plain where no one else was. He was in a private place, free from curious stares and the denial of his identity. It helped him clear his head. He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing he couldn't just leave now. As much as he suddenly didn't want to be there, he knew he had to stay in Erebor. There was nowhere else he could go now. Back at the Shire he had been proclaimed dead, and he planned on remaining dead to them. There was nothing left for him there.

The hobbit sighed, thinking back to his life before the adventure, before he died. He'd been so content in Bag End, in the Shire, but he knew it could never make him happy again. When he was reborn he could care less about the Shire-it had lost its former magic.

Some distant part of him wanted to stay in this shadowy place forever. It was nice and peaceful, and if he ever got hungry he could just steal some food. It wasn't like anyone would ever be able to catch him, especially when he was so small and so nimble. His speed was unrivaled by any of the other hobbit youth.

Bilbo looked around Erebor, the place he'd fought for. It certainly was beautiful, even more so now that it had dwarves actually living in it. They passed by him, a few who he was barely able to dodge as they ran past him. They were living there day to day lives, ignorant of the fact that they could be forced to live a new life without their consent. 

What lucky fools, Bilbo thought, though at the same time he never wished this suffering on them.

He could tell a lot of work had been put into restoring it, and for a moment he felt a deep respect for it, but just as soon as he felt it, it was gone. Thorin had cared more about the treasure of Erebor than him, and it had ended up causing Bilbo to die.

He walked down the halls of Erebor for hours, eventually stopping in the kitchens to steal a few cakes from under Bombur's nose, then continued walking. The taste of frosting was still in his mouth, but he could no longer enjoy what had once been to him a sweet taste. He'd lost interest even in food, something almost all hobbits loved. He was the exception.

This life wasn't worth it. He should've been happy; he was given a whole new life! But it brought him no comfort. He was stuck in his past life except he now had a different body, a new name.

He eventually reached what appeared to be a deserted hall on the upper levels of Erebor, the only thing in sight a large golden door. He heard no noises, so he took off his ring. Color came back to him, and for a moment it shocked him. He wondered how long he'd had his ring on for color to shock him, as if he'd been born completely colorblind. He looked around, seeing the walls completely blank except for the gold interlaced in parts of the stone, forming a diamond pattern.

Where have I seen that pattern before? Bilbo asked, clutching the ring in his hand.

That was when the door opened, causing him to jump. He should've heard the sound of footsteps, but without his ring his hearing was not heightened. The two that walked out of the door stared at him in shock for a few minutes before smiling.

Dear Eru Iluvatar, Bilbo thought.

They were Fili and Kili, dressed up in their finest. Fili was dressed in a dark blue robe satin robe with gold trimming, his pants made of an expensive looking silver fabric that Bilbo couldn't quite identify. Kili wore a dark red robe that matched his brother, though he wore a brown silken pants. His boots were slightly dirty while Fili's were spotless. Each had their hair well groomed, and their beards, still barely there, was styled as best as possible. They seemed to have barely aged in the decade since Bilbo had last seen them. Thankfully, they seemed free of their battle scars, looking perfectly healthy.

"I'm not hallucinating, and I'm scared I am, am I, Kili?" Fili asked.

"If you mean the halfling," Kili said, "then I see him as well."

Fili smirked, a gleam in his eyes. "Then he must be real."

Bilbo squeaked, the exact noise he didn't want to make at this moment. He was supposed to sound brave and fierce, not like a mouse. Quickly, he dropped the ring in his pocket. He couldn't just vanish while these two saw him-he needed to keep the ring a secret no matter what.

You're going to have to run, Bilbo told himself. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then turned and ran, thankful for all the times he'd spent outside of his hobbit hole racing across the green fields rather than spending time with the young hobbits like his parents, or whatever they were, wished.

"You don't need to be scared of us!" Fili cried, desperation in his voice, but Bilbo did not turn to see the expression on his face. Instead, he forced himself to run even faster. "We promise to not hurt you!"

"Do you think he's related to Bilbo?" Kili asked.

"All my bets are on it!"

Bilbo could see the staircase. If he could just run a little faster than he could escape into the next floor and put on his ring. He imagined the boys wondering what happened to him-the hobbit just vanishing into thin air. The fantasy filled him with happiness, and he couldn't help but run a little faster in hopes of making his dreams a reality. It would be worth it just so he could see the looks on their faces.

"We won't hurt you!" Fili called again.

"We never would!" Kili added.

Bilbo forced himself to run faster again, but suddenly tripped. He felt his legs give in, he gripped the ring tighter, knowing he couldn't possibly lose it, then just barely was able to cover his face before he fell. His arms, stomach, and legs hurt, but his face was free of damage at least. He tried to pick himself up, he needed to get back up, but before he could he felt someone grab him around the waist.

"It's perfectly fine," the low voice said. Bilbo recognized it as Fili's. He sounded like he was talking to a child, and for what must have been the millionth time (and Bilbo was not exaggerating), he cursed being stuck in the body of a ten year old hobbit who held almost no physical resemblance to him. "You look scared, but I promise that no one is going to hurt you."

Kili came up as well, then put his hand on dark Bilbo's curls. "You look hurt after the fall." He smiled at Fili.

"Why don't we get you some help?" Fili asked, and before Bilbo could protest he was leaning against Fili's chest as they dragged him back behind the door Bilbo had seen. When they set him down, it was on a soft bed. He looked around him, seeing it was their royal chambers. It was no surprise to him that they shared it, and neither was the fact that there was only one bed. The room held axes and swords on the walls, along with paintings. The sheets were of silk, and the torches were held to the wall by something that glittered like gold. Jewels sat on their respective dressers.

"You okay?" Kili asked.

"He looks terrified." Fili said, then rumpled Bilbo's hair. "Poor little halfling. Don't worry, we promise that we'd never hurt you or any of your kind. In fact, we owe our very lives to a creature of your race, our uncle's life as well!"

Bilbo scowled.

Fili laughed. "What are you angry for? Come, let's get him some treatment for his wounds and some food. The poor lad looks half starved."

Bilbo had completely forgotten about his wounds. He couldn't feel the pain anymore, too concerned with the dwarves before him. And he was not half starved, thank you very much! He just didn't have the regular appetite of a hobbit any longer. "No." he firmly stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kili laughed like his brother had. "He surely must be related to Mister Boggins if he is like that!"

"Don't call me that!" Bilbo screamed.

The two dwarves stared at him in shocked silence for a moment, blinking every once in a while. They seemed to be unable to comprehend Bilbo's outburst.

"Do not call me Boggins! It's Baggins-"

Just as he was about to continue speaking, Kili laughed again. He grabbed one of Bilbo's ears and playfully pulled on it. "So he admits that he's related to our burglar!" Kili turned his head to Fili, both of whom seemed to have forgotten about getting him food and medical care.

"What relation do you think he is?"

"He can't be his son. Surely he would've discussed having a son."

"Nephew?"

"No. Remember when he said he didn't have any siblings?"

"I remember that!" Fili smiled at Bilbo. "So what relation do you have to him? Are you perhaps his cousin?"

"Yes, he's likely Bilbo's cousin."

"I am not his cousin! I am Bilbo Baggins!" He released all the rage he'd been holding, all the pain at being forced into a new body, losing himself to a person that didn't even exist. He remembered all the times he'd been called Frodo, been called the strangest hobbit in the world, had heard snide remarks about his Took blood, and he released every bit of that anger on the two. He was not going to have them think he was Frodo as well.

"Did he get a head wound?" Fili asked.

"Poor lad," Kili said. "Let's get him that treatment."

The two stepped away from him, getting some emergency medical supplies they kept in his room, then began treating him. All the while Bilbo kept screaming that he was Bilbo. The two ignored him, clearly thinking him crazy. It appeared the Durin family had a collection of sweets stashed in their rooms, and to stop his chatter Kili shoved a cupcake in his mouth. When Bilbo spit it out, he put in another, then grabbed Bilbo's jaw and forced him to chew while his brother treated his wound. When he finished eating, Kili put in another, and he kept repeating this until Fili finally declared Bilbo's wounds treated. They stepped back from him and looked at him.

"He definitely resembles the burglar!" Kili said. "They both have hair on their feet!"

"All hobbits have hair on their feet, you idiot!" Fili rubbed his chin. "I don't see much of, if not any, resemblance." He smiled down at Bilbo. "So what's your name? I'm Fili, the heir of the throne, and the idiot next to me is my brother Kili. He's nice, but it's obvious that there's no brain up there in his skull, just empty air."

"Hey!" Kili said.

Fili rolled his eyes, then walked up to Bilbo again and wrapped an arm around him. "He's pretty cute! What do you say we adopt him and let him become king when we die?"

Kili laughed, the former semi-argument between the two completely forgotten. He came up and wrapped his arm around Bilbo as well. He pulled on Bilbo's ear again. "I like the idea! Want to be king with us?"

Bilbo scowled once more. "Stop! I'm not a child!"

"Well you look just like one," Kili said, ignoring the anger in Bilbo's voice and in his eyes, in the way he clenched his fists and clenched his jaws.

"If he's not a child," Fili said, "then what could he be? We knows he's a hobbit, but what else?"

"And we still don't know his name," Kili replied. "What's your name? We asked before but you never gave us a real answer."

"I'm Bilbo Baggins of Bag End!"

The two looked visibly saddened.

"He must really be in shock over his relative's death," Kili said.

"Or maybe he hit his head too hard," Fili said. "But either way, I feel bad the poor lad."

"I'm not a poor lad!" He wriggled away from the two brothers, but was grabbed around the waist by Kili and pulled up to his chest. "Why won't you listen to me?" Tears pricked at his eyes. "I'm Bilbo! I know I don't look like him, but I am him! Remember just after the eagles dropped us off and you two exchanged those two small bags of coins?"

"People knew about that?" Kili asked. "I thought no one knew of it!"

"But how could anyone?" Fili asked. "We were discreet about it!"

"Not enough against me. I'll admit, I barely saw it myself, but I know what I saw." He smirked, glad to have the boys' attentions. In a way, it was strange considering them boys when he was easily the youngest of them all, both in age (even if his age from his former life was added to it), and in appearance. But in mind he surpassed them by decades, even after everything that they went through.

"You're not joking, are you?" Fili asked.

"It wouldn't be funny if you were."

"Believe me, I know it isn't funny." He squeezed the ring even more, happy that at least he still had it. It was his safety, his protection from the terrors around him. "I didn't choose to be born again." And then he explained his story, each of them looking and listening to him as he recounted everything. It was strange telling his life story to Fili and Kili of all people, but soon he'd be telling the entire company, so what did it matter?

"So you're really Bilbo," Fili said, then pulled Bilbo into a tight hug. "We missed you so much."

"You should've seen how uncle cried at your death," Kili added. "We cried too. It was awful, and the burial was the worst part." Kili hugged Bilbo as well.

Bilbo didn't know how long the three remained in that embrace, and during some time of it he noticed both of them crying, but when they finally let go of him Bilbo felt like a puzzle piece that had been removed from its matches. He quickly shook the feeling away, then walked away from them.

"Where are you going?" Fili asked, rubbing away tears.

"I still have others that I need to see," Bilbo said.

"But you just can't leave us, Frodo," Kili said, then flashed a grin.

"Yeah," Fili added. "We're making you our heir, remember?"

Bilbo began to walk away quicker. "No, no, that's fine."

"But Frodo," Kili said, "we can't have kids ourselves. You'll be great to adopt!"

"Stop calling me Frodo," Bilbo said, clutching the ring tighter. If only he'd never taken the damned thing off! He wished he could go back in time and yell at his former self to keep it on no matter what. But no, he couldn't just vanish in front of them now. He'd lose his secret weapon and they'd be able to find him more easily. No, he needed his invisibility to remain a secret.

"Come on," Fili said, smirking, "we need to get him into his royal robes."

"Yes," Kili said, "he does need far better clothes."

Bilbo looked down at the torn and dirty clothes he wore. Thorin had offered replacements, but this clothing was of Shire quality and nothing could compare to it, He needed that little piece of it; it was all he had left of the good memories of the place since he could no longer recreate those feelings.

"Don't walk away," Fili said.

"New clothes are good," Kili said.

And then Bilbo turned around and ran, glad that the doors were still open. If they weren't, considering their size and the weight Bilbo would've been unable to open them. He used all of his energy, more than he ever had before, to sprint away from the boys.

"You can run, Frodo," Kili called.

"But you can't hide!" Fili added.

"We're going to make you our heir!" Bilbo honestly didn't know how much that he was joking.

 

~

 

He was able to slip away from them to safety, to put on his ring and vanish.

"Bilbo!" Fili called.

"Frodo!" Kili added.

Bilbo said nothing, just stood a few steps away from them as they called out to him. They seemed completely and utterly shocked at Bilbo's disappearance. Eventually they gave up and went back to their room. When they did, Bilbo let out a loud chuckle, then began to look once more for another dwarf from the company to share his story with. He prayed and hoped with all his heart that for once one of them would listen to him.

 

~

 

"We need to find him," Fili said. "He could be seriously injured."

Kili nodded, now dead serious. He could joke, but there was always a serious side to him, as rare as it was ever seen. He and his brother didn't want to lose their burglar, to suffer the grief, again.

The two looked each other dead in the eyes, making a mutual agreement to find Bilbo. They were a search party of two, but they knew any more looking for him would make Bilbo harder to find. They were going to hunt him down and catch him, whether he wanted to be found or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna do Dwalin next.


	3. Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets an old friend again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I skipped the Dwalin chapter. I've decided that though most chapters will focus on Bilbo and a character, it won't just be constant repeats of "Bilbo goes to X member of company and X member of company freaks out". That'll get old. So I'm trying to diversify it.
> 
> The chapters will range from 1,300 to 3,000 words in length. It goes however long I feel it needs to be in that range.

Bilbo ran frantically around Erebor, searching for another dwarf from the company. There must have been a couple thousand numbers of dwarves in Erebor, but he was only looking for thirteen.

Blasted dwarves, Bilbo thought. Why do they all have to look so alike?

He ran past miners, toymakers (though Bilbo saw neither Bifur of Bofur), traders, elves (who were all closely guarded), and even a few men, but not one face struck him as one from the company. He was ready to rip out his chocolate locks.

It hadn’t always been like this. Before he’d had a body, a name, a respectability. His hair had been lighter, he’d been older, taller. He’d had everything he needed to truly be Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.

I want to be Bilbo again, he thought. To have his height, his coloring, his hair, his voice. He’d phrased and rephrased that thought countless times before and it seemed he’d never stop doing so. Oh what he would honestly give to have his old body back!

Bilbo knew things wouldn’t be going as well for him if he didn’t have his ring. He’d be looked at, whispered about, perhaps even trampled. Hobbitlings were very tiny. With his ring, his precious, precious ring, he was all alone.

 

“We’ll find him,” Kili said.

“Yes,” Fili replied, still pacing around, “but where?”

“Well, Bilbo liked tea,” Kili said.

Fili raised a light yellow eyebrow. “Does Erebor look like it has a teashop?”

“No,” Kili admitted, turning pink from embarrassment, “but we do have a library.”

“And Bilbo absolutely loved books!” Fili said, upbeat once more, thinking back to the many long hours where Bilbo would discuss books to the dwarves around the fire. They had easily been the most boring stories that the dwarf had ever the misfortune to have heard. “You finally thought something right for once, brother!” He clapped his brother on the back.

Kili rolled his eyes. “Whatever, let’s hurry up and get him back.”

There was a gleam in Fili’s eyes. “Yes, let’s do it.”

 

He slept in the Erebor library. Unlike the rest of the city, it was very calm and quiet. Very few dwarves were inside, and there were lots of empty seats and sofas. The air smelled of paper and tea, along with even flowers. It was the most beautiful thing that Bilbo could ever remember smelling. He found a comfortable one, laid down, and promptly fell asleep. He dreamed, but they were mostly just random images that had no actual connection to one another. They all were mixed with a deep blackness. This was how Bilbo’s usual sleep was-a mix of images and half unconsciousness. A while later, though he didn’t know exactly how long, he woke up. Standing across from him was a brown-haired dwarf who was busily re-shelving books.

Ori! Bilbo thought. If any dwarf had sense in him than it was Ori. Oh, the long conversations that they had had over tea about books. He’d been such a good lad-it was a shame that he’d died before they could’ve worked together putting the Erebor library back together.

He tiptoed up to him, not making one single sound (he could easily be the sneakiest of the sneakiest hobbitlings), then pulled off his ring and stuck it in his pocket. “Ori,” he said, lightly tapping the dwarf on his leg. If only he were tall enough to reach his shoulder!

The dwarf turned around, certainly Ori, and smiled at him. His beard had grown considerably, and he was dressed in a brown knitted sweater with a pattern Bilbo had never seen before, but there was no doubt that this was Ori. “Hello,” he said. He looked down at Bilbo, then looked considerably at Bilbo’s feet. After a long time of intense staring, he looked back up at Bilbo. “So you are a hobbit.” It was a statement, not a question. What other creature would have hair on their feet anyhow? If they did they’d hide them under boots, not flaunt it. He stood up straighter, then cleared his throat. “Are you in relation to Bilbo Baggins?” There was a sad, distant look in his eyes.

Bilbo cleared his own throat-it was now or never. If he could convince anyone, it’d be Ori. Bilbo clasped his hands together, looked directly into Ori’s eyes, then spoke. “I am Bilbo Baggins.”

Ori seemed confused. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I must have misheard you.”

Bilbo sighed. He spoke louder, telling himself that Ori really had not heard him correctly, that it was just his soft little hobbit voice and not Ori too being in denial like everyone else. “I am Bilbo Baggins.”

Ori shook his head. “Can you repeat that?”

Bilbo clenched his fists tightly. “I. Am. Bilbo. Baggins.” He spoke every syllable clearly, focusing on each. He sounded like how an angry parent would talk to their misbehaving child who just wouldn’t listen to them. “I know I do not look it, but by some twist of fate, a divine prank as I believe it to be, I am stuck in the body of,” he motioned towards his body, “of this, this child.” The word sickened him. This was a punishment all its own. Please do not think I am trying to pull a joke on you, Ori; I live in this body every day and I absolutely hate it.” Tears pricked at his eyes-oh why did he have to cry now of all times? “I know that it’s not funny.” He’d done this speech before and he knew he would be doing it again many times, but it still brought him to tears.

“Don’t cry,” the dwarf said, placing his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Please don’t cry; I believe you.”

“You do?” Bilbo asked, wiping away his tears.

The dwarf nodded. “I read once that at times members of certain races will be born again for what may sometimes seem to be no apparent reason. Besides, you remind me of Bilbo. There’s this look in our eyes, the way you move. . . You may look quite a bit different, but I know that you’re him.”

Thank Eru Iluvatar for books, Bilbo thought, and he felt a tear fall down his face, but this time it was from happiness. He hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time.

They ended up in Ori’s private work room where he kept most of the damaged books and the supplies to fix them. It was small but cozy, with a collection of yarn and knitting needles in the farthest left hand corner.

“That sounds awful,” Ori said after Bilbo had recounted his life story. He grabbed Bilbo and pulled him into a long, tight hug. When he finished, he pulled a pair of mittens and a hat out of his collection of yarn and gave them to Bilbo. They were the perfect size. “I didn’t know any children to give them to, but one day I just wanted to make items this size. I guess you could say it was fate.”

That happy feeling inside Bilbo grew. “Thank you,” he said, beginning to cry again, “for everything.”

“No, no,” Ori said. “It was nothing.”

Bilbo continued crying. Why did he always have to end up crying? He’d been born in the body of a boy who couldn’t control his own damn eyes. He clutched the soft mittens and hat in his hands. “Thank you for believing me.” He tried to wipe away the tears, but they only kept coming. “Why do I have to be this way? What is the point in this?” He tried again to wipe away the tears, and again they wouldn’t stop falling. It was a struggle that Bilbo was losing.

And then Ori embraced him again and he was reminded of what the woman who had called herself his mother, but she wasn’t Belladonna and she never had been, and how she’d loved to hug him like that. He’d had random crying fits that he never would be able to explain-at least not without sounding insane.

He cried over everything. His real parents and his fake, his old body and his new, all the relationships he’d had before death and now the ones that likely would be forever unable to reach the point they’d been before. Bilbo cried for Thorin, for dying on him when Bilbo was sure he’d be needing him most. He’d watched Bilbo die.

Bilbo cried for his closest friends-Bofur, and Ori (who was forced to watch him cry), Fili and Kili (though they were now back to their mischievous selves). Eventually his eyes couldn’t cry any longer.

That was when the door opened.

“We found you, Frodo!” screamed a familiar voice. Bilbo turned to see Fili, the one who had spoken, and his brother, Kili, standing next to him in the doorway of Ori’s work room. They both had a triumphant smile on their faces and gleams in their eyes.

“I knew we’d find you here,” Kili said, crossing his arms over his chest. Bilbo wanted to wipe the smirk from his face himself.

Ori rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Please do not bother him now,” he said, “and do not call him Frodo. I know you think you’re being funny, but you’re not. It genuinely bothers Bilbo when you do that.”

Kili rolled his eyes. “We just want him for a few minutes.”

Ori scowled, the sight rather strange on the normally upbeat dwarf’s face, but then again, he had been rather fierce with only his slingshot. “Get out.”

“You can’t tell Erebor royalty what to do,” Fili said.

Ori turned beet red with anger. “Royalty, you say? I am the king of this library and you will accept what is commanded of you.” His mouth was set in a determined line, his large hand firmly on Bilbo’s much smaller shoulder/

Kili laughed, the sound echoing across the room. “He says he’s the king of all these dumb books!”

Fili laughed. “Do you think he ever yells at them to bow to him?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s at least tried it once!”

That was when there was a loud clearing of someone’s throat. Bilbo looked up to see that Thorin now stood behind Fili and Kili.

Great, Bilbo thought. There’s now a whole family reunion of the idiots of the Durin line. Isn’t that absolutely fantastic? He regretted ever letting this happen, especially in the library and in Ori’s workshop of all places. The brown-haired dwarf looked nervous at the sight of his king.

Thorin stood up taller, looking regal enough to be worthy of his title as king of Erebor. “Fili, Kili, do not harass Bilbo so. He is not to be treated like a child.” He turned to face Ori. “Ori,” he said, “you were a valuable member of my company and I respect you for what you did. Thank you for treating kindly to and standing up for Bilbo. You will be handsomely rewarded.”

“No, no, it is fine.”

“No, you are worthy of it.” He shot Ori a look that implied that he should just accept what Thorin gifted him with. Finally, he turned to his head downwards to face Bilbo. His blue eyes were cold, his face carefully masked to hide any emotions. He was very good at this-Bilbo had seen him practice before. He was certainly cold as stone until you got to know him. “Bilbo,” he said, “I request for you to come with me. I need to discuss a few things with you.”

Bilbo swallowed the lump in his throat. Sweat formed at the back of his neck and feet, but he dared not wipe it. He didn’t even want to imagine what he looked like, his eyes likely red and puffy from all the crying he’d done. He really must have looked like a hobbitling, a real child, then.

“Why?” he asked.

Thorin simply crossed his arms over his chest. “You are in my kingdom and you will do as I say.”

Bilbo sighed, then shot Ori an apologetic look. Ori just smiled back at him.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo followed Thorin out of Ori’s room, then out of the library itself, leaving the formerly three youngest members of the company behind. Bilbo clutched the ring in his pocket like it would save his life if he needed it to. Somehow he guessed that it likely would.


	4. A Discussion with Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin discuss what has happened with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is your Easter gift.
> 
> I don't even celebrate Easter.

They went into a private, dimly lit hallway. It was rather large, but Bilbo suddenly felt claustrophobic. There were no sounds inside except for Thorin’s heavy footsteps, made louder by the boots he wore. Bilbo walked alongside him, completely noiseless. The ring was clutched in his hand, the only thing he had left that truly made him feel comfortable. Ori’s knitted items were stuffed inside Bilbo’s pockets.

Wouldn’t it be funny, Bilbo thought, thinking back to the horrible creature he’d nicknamed “Gollum”, if he saw me now? Would he be able to guess what was in my pocket? The joke brought him no comfort.

It smelled of sweat and slightly of blood, along with the faint leftover smell of dragon. Something told Bilbo that there was a reason few came to this hall.

“I need to speak with you,” Thorin said. It was hard to tell what emotions Thorin’s face held, if any at all, because of the lighting. Bilbo hoped that Thorin could not see Bilbo’s face as well.

“What do you wish to speak of?” Bilbo asked. He stood up taller, or at least as tall as someone in the body of a hobbitling could make himself.

“Well,” Thorin said, sounding uneasy (Bilbo felt triumph at making the king of Erebor and the most hard headed dwarf in existence uneasy), “it’s about a lot of things to be honest.”

Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, then tell me.”

“You really haven’t changed personality wise, have you?” Thorin asked, though there was something sad in his voice. “Well, first up, I wanted to discuss your residence here.”

“I’m not going back to the Shire. I loved it there once, but now I cannot go there. I’d be seen as crazy if I tried to discuss my, ahem, condition. Besides, do you think I’d travel all the way to Erebor just to see you for a few months and then walk out? I waited my entire life for this.” Bilbo began to gently rub the ring with his finger. “Is there any job here that I am required to do? I could help out Ori at the library perhaps, or-”

“No,” Thorin said, “I require nothing of you. I have a room where you can stay.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Well, thank you for that.”

“Why did you come back?” Thorin asked. “After what I did, was it worth it?”

Bilbo cringed. If there was anything that he didn’t like to think of, it was the events leading up to his death. Oh the many nights he’d woken in a cold sweat that covered his entire body, his breathing rapid, as he thought over the terrible images that had appeared before him. There were images of gold and jewels, Thorin running his hands over them, tears in his eyes. He’d remembered when Thorin had covered him in them, a lust in his eyes, but only for the shiny rocks and so called precious metals, not Bilbo himself. Then he’d think of the battle field, saving Thorin and his nephews from death but ultimately ending up lying bleeding with an orc spear through his chest, tearing out his insides. He’d watched Thorin cry over him, all the while feeling an immense pain even after the orc spear had been removed from him. The healers had tried to do it carefully, but it wasn’t careful enough.

It hurts, Bilbo had thought. Eru Iluvatar, make the pain stop! Make the pain stop! But nothing had, and he’d died while the ones he’d cared about already began to mourn and his body in immense pain. The blood had pooled around him before the healers had gotten bandages on him, but ultimately he’d ended up dying smelling his own blood. It was a terrible way to die, the way he’d never expected to die and the exact way he hadn’t wanted to.

“To be honest, nothing would be worth it. Living in the Shire would have been incredibly painful, and coming here was as painful as I knew it’d be, but I have been given this new life and must accept it.” He sighed, wishing he could see the expression on Thorin’s face. What could it hold? “I never have been one to get much sleep. I used to always have nightmares that you’d died somehow, or someone had usurped the throne and you were put into exile. The worst dreams, however, was when there was another drake. I’d always feared that other dragons would here of the great treasure of Erebor and steal it for yourself. By then you might not be able to reclaim Erebor once more, and it would be lost forever that time.” Bilbo closed his eyes and pictured Thorin from before, then Thorin as of now. His beard was longer, grown that way to honor his dead father and grandfather. “You know, you look exactly like I expected you to.”

“I-I do?”

“Yes, you do. You really do look like the king Erebor has always needed.” Bilbo clutched the ring once more. “And I can’t even begin to put into words just how happy I am for you.” Bilbo smiled, though he knew it was unlikely Thorin actually saw it.

“How do you live like this? Do you not hate your new body?”

“I despise it. But I have to live like this-I am sure that by now my real body has rotten away into nothing in the tomb you gave me.”

“How did you know about it?”

“Well I was telling Ori about what happened he mentioned it. I’ll admit, it sounds much better than in a random hole in the earth. So, tell me, do the dwarves have good methods of embalming or has my body rotted away?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Bilbo sighed. “I should know it was hopeless.”

“I will make sure that you are treated with respect!”

“I’m sure you will,” Bilbo said, running his hand through his curly hair. “But that does not mean you can make me respect myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every day my memory of my body fades from me, just a little. I was never one to need to constantly look in mirrors. I can’t remember the position of my nose, my exact eye color, and yes they were brown, but what shade? I could make a list of browns, maybe fifty shades of brown, and never find the exact one. What kind of eyebrows did I have?” Bilbo sighed. “I’ll never have that knowledge again.” He clenched his fists together. “I hate this stupid body!”

And then he started to cry, which lasted a good long while. Sometime during that Thorin had scooped him up and held him to his furs, letting him cry into it. It reminded him of before and that only made him cry even harder because he knew things would never be the same again.

 

Bilbo sat sipping tea in his room. It was far too large for what a hobbit would need, but he didn’t complain. There was a fire lit in the fireplace, and along the walls hung paintings of various places from dwarven history. They were beautiful and glowed in the firelight. Bookshelves covered the walls, filled with leather bound tomes of anything and everything, and all thankfully in Westron rather than Khuzdul. It didn’t bring much comfort, but the little it did filled Bilbo’s heart with happiness. He clung to whatever happiness that was left for him to get now. He felt exhausted and depressed, the weight of everything held on his shoulders. He put his cup of tea down, no longer able to keep sipping it.

Thorin came back inside, holding something in his hand. Bilbo couldn’t tell what it was until he walked closer. It was a red leather bound book, the kind of thing that Bilbo had only dreamed of ever seeing in Thorin’s hands. Thorin sat down next to Bilbo, then flipped open the pages until he stopped at a certain one. The writing inside the book was in Khuzdul, but it was clearly Thorin’s. Bilbo had seen Thorin write before. On it was a very detailed sketch, even more so than Ori’s sketches. The lines were all made with various forms of shading, a mix of lead and ink. It captured all of Bilbo’s features, and finally he could recall just what exactly his face looked like.

“Th-that was made by you?” Bilbo asked, amazed. He’d never pegged Thorin as the drawing type.

Thorin gave a weak smile. “I’m more than you expect.”

Bilbo laughed, then took the book from him. “It’s beautiful. How did you learn to draw?”

“Back when I was a smith,” Thorin said, “I would do it to pass the time. I began to get better and better. I taught myself.”

“How come I never saw you do it?”

“Well,” Thorin said, going pink from embarrassment, “I never wanted anyone to know that I did it. It’s not exactly a thing for dwarves to brag about. Killing Azog will get cheers from others, but admitting that I can draw? No, that won’t earn me any good attention.” He laughed weakly. “I’m glad you like it. I never thought you’d actually see it.”

“Why not?”

“It was very private and personal to me, but I realize that I can no longer hide it from you. You deserve to see this.”

Bilbo smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anyway,” Thorin said, then gently touched his shoulder, “I was meaning to ask you about our past”-he paused-“relationship.”

Bilbo laughed, then closed the book, putting his finger on the edge of the page to serve as a temporary bookmark. “I believe having sex with you as I am now would kill me. I may be wrong, but I don’t want to risk it. You are a little, well, big.”

Thorin laughed, the sound resonating throughout the room. “Well, at least you’re being honest with me.” But something sad was in his eyes.

“I’ve thought about it,” Bilbo said, “but I can’t do it, at least not now. On one hand I have a new life, but on the other hand I am forever trapped in the body of a person who is not really me, living a fake life. I can’t live like this forever, not unless I get used to this body. And that idea scares me. If I ever really, truly want a good life than I have to forget about what body I once inhibited, get over it. I feel like I’m grieving over someone’s death, and the death is over me, or at least my old body.” He opened the book again and began rubbing his finger over his features, his other hand reaching up to do the same with his real face. Already, he could notice differences.

Thorin looked sad once more, and every few moments he’d look as if he were about to speak up, but then would close his mouth. He looked comical, almost like a fish that was struggling to breathe while outside water.

Bilbo closed the book, then took a sip of his tea again. “I’ve heard that relationships can be complicated, but I never thought it would end up like this.” Neither had the heart to laugh at Bilbo’s attempt at a joke. Neither spoke for a long while, the two just sitting and staring at their laps, the ground, the walls, at the book, anywhere but each others' eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not but there is actually a plot to this story, and soon I'm going to make it start rolling. Though I do love writing angst and watching you all suffer, I must make sure you all stay interested.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy ending? Who needs happy endings? My life is sustained by the delicious tears of heartbroken Thilbo fans. *Laughs evilly*


End file.
